


In the dark, right beside you

by hypernomad



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1841185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypernomad/pseuds/hypernomad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their bedroom door is still shut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the dark, right beside you

**Author's Note:**

> Basically a gapfiller for immediately post-4x12, after Fiona and the others leave.

It takes a good twenty minutes or so after Fiona and the others leave for Mickey to stop pacing and make his way back to his bedroom. He steels himself for it, closing his eyes and gripping the edge of the counter like the world is spinning around him and it’s all he can do not to get sucked into the vortex his life has suddenly become. He takes a few shaky breaths and gradually becomes aware of Svetlana’s voice in the other room, the baby gurgling, Nika lighting a cigarette. He wipes the wet patina of teardrops left on his cheeks with his sleeves and makes his way out of the kitchen.

Their bedroom door is still shut.

When Mickey opens it, Ian hasn’t moved, and the sight triggers something horrible and dark and twisted in his head that he hasn’t thought of for a long time. It’s not something that should have slipped his mind at all, but somehow it had become obscured anyway. Now it’s all he can think of, and it feels like someone’s just dropped a cinderblock on his stomach.

Letting out a trembling breath, Mickey tries to shake the feeling of Svetlana’s eyes boring into his back. Stepping into the room, he closes the door behind him and shrugs his shirt from his shoulders. The house is freezing, but he strips down to his boxers and climbs into bed anyway. Quietly, he covers himself with the blanket and shuffles closer, tentatively, to Ian’s body. His skin is cold and a quick glance over his shoulder tells Mickey that he’s asleep, or is at least pretending to be, and something shudders with fear in his chest.

“Ian?” He says softly. When he doesn’t reply, he shakes him, panic rising in his chest. “Ian!”

Suddenly he’s ten years old again and his mother is laid on the couch, asleep, or at least appearing to be. Her black hair is obscuring half of her face, falling into her closed, sunken eyes. It’s dawning on him that there’s a syringe on the table and a band tied tightly around his mother’s arm, and that she’s not moving at all, not even to breathe. The house is too empty, too still, and Mickey is alone.

He’s so fucked up that he actually checks for Ian’s pulse. It’s there, throbbing against his fingers, and Ian shifts against him with a groan. Mickey lets out a relieved sigh and settles back against the mattress, plastering himself to Ian’s back.

“Ian, I-“ He begins, but quickly realises that he doesn’t know what to say. He closes his eyes and presses his face to the nape of Ian’s neck. “I’m fucking freezing.” He mumbles finally, feeling really stupid.

Ian doesn’t reply, and Mickey wraps an arm around his waist beneath the covers. “We need to find the money for the heating bill. Mandy said she’d take on a couple more shifts at work. Don’t worry about the club, I’ll call and let them know what’s happening.”

His hands trace over the little scar on Ian’s hip, touching him like he usually does, his heart feeling a little less sore by the familiarity. He hopes that Ian feels it too.

Mickey sighs. “We’re both in the shit together, huh?” He asks. “We’re both cold, we’re both miserable, we’re both poor…” He begins, and then remembers that he has no idea what’s going through Ian’s head. He wants to know how he feels so badly, but he remembers Fiona’s words all of a sudden. _‘It’s not that kind of depressed.’_

Mickey sighs and sniffs, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “Okay, I don’t know how you’re feeling, or what’s happening to you. But… I wish I did. I don’t know how you feel, but it can’t be much better than what I’m feeling.” He continues in a hushed voice. “I just… fuck, I suck at this.”

Sniffing, he stays silent for a few minutes and roughly wipes the tears away from his eyes and tries as hard as he can not to sob. “I know there’s something inside you fucking with your head, and that it’s what your mom had, and that it’s probably part of why she left you and ended up being such a crappy parent. I don’t know what it is, but… Fuck, man, I just… you’re not alone, okay?” He finally gets out, his voice broken and croaky. Emboldened, the words begin to flow like water. “You’re not alone. I won’t leave you alone. I won’t send you away so someone else can look after you. I’ll make things better, I promise. I won’t let go. I’m right there too, alright? In the dark. We’re both there.”

Sighing, he presses his wet face back against Ian’s neck and sobs once or twice. Eventually, the tension wears off and he feels like he can breathe again, even though his nose is completely blocked and his eyes are stinging. He takes a few deep breaths before he speaks again. “I’ll drag you out. Don’t worry about a thing.”

A few more minutes later and Mickey is on the verge of falling back to sleep. He opens his eyes when he feels the bed sheets rustling and Ian is grabbing his hand to bring it around to his chest. Mickey can hear him breathing a little more heavily and he instinctively presses closer. Ian brings Mickey’s hand to his chest and cradles it, his fingers threading through his and his laboured breath ghosting over their hands.

“Face me,” Mickey whispers, unfurling a finger to stroke it along Ian’s chin gently.

Surprisingly, Ian turns gradually and presses himself closer to Mickey’s body, but he doesn’t let go of his hand the whole time. Mickey rearranges the blanket over them and makes sure that Ian’s body is covered before he begins stroking through the younger boy’s soft ginger hair. He pauses to wipe away the teardrops clinging to his eyelashes and uses the corner of the blanket to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks. Ian closes his eyes and shifts his head against Mickey’s chest, but the brunet doesn’t stop stroking his hair.

When Ian finally seems to be asleep, Mickey closes his eyes and kisses the top of the younger boy’s head. “I love you,” he says, and sighs, resting his head back against his pillow in exhaustion.


End file.
